


Seven Years Ago Today

by HoransPayne



Series: NiamNetwork Themes [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoransPayne/pseuds/HoransPayne
Summary: Seven years ago today, Niall met Liam.





	

It was seven years ago today.

Niall couldn’t believe it had really been that long. Seven years, really? Shit. He gazed down at the picture in his hands, staring intently at the smiling faces looking back on him. Seven years since he’d seen these smiling faces in person, seven years since they’d ever smiled. Niall tenderly rubbed his thumb over the glass of the frame, wiping away the salty liquid that had fallen on to it. Niall was quite surprised to find that the picture hadn’t dissolved away, he’d cried on it so often.

Niall could recall this day seven years ago so clearly in his mind, that he found he was still living it. It was his most vivid memory, and he hated it. He could still feel the cool breeze of the early autumn evening, could still smell that familiar smell of the streets when it had rained and could still feel the soft, soggy leaves under his feet as he walked home.

Niall had been over at a friend’s house after school, and he was walking home, needing to be back for dinner. As he rounded the corner, he could see his house over the small hedge surrounding the driveway. He could see that the front door was open. He was a little confused by this, but didn’t think much of it; perhaps one of his family members was in the driveway and he couldn’t see them. It couldn’t have been his dad, he always kept the door only slightly ajar to prevent letting a draft in, and the door was currently wide open; it was probably Greg. As Niall entered his driveway he expected to see Greg tampering with his car or something, but what he actually saw made Niall wish he could never see again. The driveway was empty, besides the cars. As he walked towards the doorway, he stopped suddenly in his tracks. His father lay on the floor in a heap, as if he’d collapsed on his way out or something. Niall, ironically, felt all the blood rush out of his face as he spotted all the blood that had seeped out of his father onto the floor. Niall immediately threw up on the floor next to his father’s body. The stench of blood was unforgettable; the coppery smell permanently engrained into his nostrils. 

Niall somehow found it in himself to step over his dad’s dead body, and into the house. He was surprised he could even see through all the tears streaming out of his eyes. He desperately blundered into the living room calling out for his mother. His cries were cut off as soon as he saw her. She was sat as if she were watching the telly, which was playing some toy advert before her. Her eyes were open, unlike his father’s, but they were cold and empty, the complete opposite of her typical warm, loving eyes that usually shone. Niall retched at the sight, but his stomach contents had already been emptied at the sight of his father.   
Niall could only hope and pray, as he climbed the stairs - unsure how he summoned the energy to do so - that his brother wasn’t home yet. All these thoughts flew out the window as he heard a loud thump from his room. His brother was shouting at someone, and Niall wished he could rid that blood-curdling scream from his nightmares. At the time he heard the shout, and the thump as his body hit the floor, Niall was stood right outside Greg’s bedroom door. He still doesn’t know why he didn’t just run out of the house when he had the chance, but he knew whoever had done this would be coming out of the room any second. The most he could do was run quietly towards his own bedroom, which was next to his brother’s. He frantically pulled open his wardrobe, and climbed inside. He had a few things on the bottom of the wardrobe and Niall used them to try to cover himself as best as he could, biting down on his hand to quiet his sobs. He was kicking himself for shouting for his mother so loudly, and was hoping to every god that might exist that he hadn’t been heard. He knew he couldn’t phone the police without risking being found, so he would just have to wait it out and hope for the best.

He doesn’t know how long, exactly, he hid in the wardrobe for. It felt like hours. Niall was tired, hungry, and desperate for the toilet. He was also dreadfully thirsty, completely dehydrated from the amount he had been crying silently to himself. He can still remember now how much his heart jumped when he heard someone in his bedroom. They seemed to be looking around in his room for a while, and Niall was sure it was the person he was specifically hiding from. He crouched further down into the wardrobe, hoping it would somehow swallow him up. Niall heard the doors of the wardrobe be pulled open, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart actually burst out of his chest, it was thumping so hard against it. He squinted at the sudden stream of light from being sat in the dark for so long. He was expecting to see some crazed, knife-wielding lunatic, covered head to toe in his family’s blood. Niall was completely shocked when he was met with soft-looking, warm brown eyes, instead of the wide, demented ones he’d been waiting for.  
Seven years ago today this day occurred, and in those seven years Niall could recall just as easily. He placed the picture frame back down onto his bedside table, wiping the tears from his face. On the table, next to the picture he’d just replaced, Niall spotted another picture. He picked that one up now, and stared at it for a while. This time there were only two people in the picture smiling back at him, instead of the four in his family photo. Both people in this picture were still alive now, too. 

Because it was seven years ago today that his whole family was brutally murdered, it also meant it was seven years ago today that he met Liam. Seven years since the boy had pulled him out of his wardrobe, and held Niall’s shaking form. Seven years since Liam had whispered “it’s okay” and “you’re alright” over and over like some mantra as he rubbed up and down Niall’s back. Seven years since Liam had saved Niall.  
Liam had lifted Niall into his arms, holding him in a bridal carry, and Niall had tucked his face into Liam’s shoulder, inhaling his scent. He’d carried him down the stairs and back out of Niall’s house. He was gripping Liam’s neck tightly, hiding his face for fear of seeing his family lying dead again. In the time that Niall had been hidden in the wardrobe and Liam had pulled him out, a whole concord of police cars and an ambulance had parked up outside. Liam immediately carried Niall over to the ambulance. The paramedics immediately took Niall and checked him over, Liam never leaving his side. 

Because Niall had no injuries, he wasn't taken to hospital and was instead driven to the police station in a car with Liam. Both boys were needed to collect reports of what had happened. As Niall was taken away from his home, people were taking pictures of his father's body and collecting samples of his blood. Niall also felt a little disgusted and embarrassed as he saw one policeman collect a sample of his vomit which was next to it. He wasn't sure whether to mention that it was his or not. After taking his and Liam's fingerprints and DNA samples - so as to rule them out as suspects - both boys were sat together in an interrogation room. The police assumed Niall would need to support at a time like this - understandably so - and so Liam was placed in the room with him; the police believing he would offer some kind of comfort to Niall. Despite the boys only meeting in the last hour or so, Niall was rather grateful for his presence, as the interrogation room was very big and grey and rather intimidating to a sixteen year old boy who'd just lost his family. 

It was here that Niall discovered how Liam had found him. He had been walking home, past the house, when he'd seen the open door. Being the nosy lad he is Liam had been looking through as he walked past, when he saw Niall's father on the floor. He'd rushed over and checked for any sign of life before calling the police and an ambulance. 

"It was when I saw that someone had been sick next to him that I thought maybe someone else was in the house." Liam had explained. Niall was then asked if the sick was his and he merely nodded. Liam continued to explain that, just like Niall, he'd first looked downstairs and found his mother, then went upstairs and found his brother and ultimately came across Niall. 

"There was another bedroom, so obviously a fourth person lived there. I just thought I better look for him." Liam shrugged. As the police wrote down his statement and Niall's afterwards, the two were left alone in the room. 

"Thanks." Niall mumbled. It was the first thing he'd said to Liam after crying into his shoulder. As he looked, he noticed Liam's shirt was a little ruined around the neckline because of Niall and his blubbering. 

"No problem, mate. I didn't really have to do much." Niall disagreed, forcing his way past three dead bodies was something Niall wasn't sure he could manage to do for a complete stranger, but he didn't tell Liam this. "I'm sorry about - er - you family and that." Liam coughed, and scratched the back of his neck. 

"Not your fault mate, unless you killed them?" Niall meant it as a joke, but Liam's eyes immediately widened. 

"No, no, no! Of course I didn't!" His face turned bright red, and Niall had to reassure him he was only joking. "Sorry, sorry, I just - you know - hate violence and that. I'm not surprised you threw up; I almost did too." Liam shuddered exaggeratedly. 

Seven years ago today, Niall had met Liam, the only positive thing to come out of that day. Liam was an eighteen year old lad, with short brown hair, so soft-looking Niall had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it on plenty of occasions. He had soft eyes to match; the brown like melted chocolate which made Niall feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He was trying to grow a beard, shown by the short stubble he'd been spouting when Niall first met him. It simply toned his already sharp jawline, and Niall simply loved the way Liam's strong arms made him feel like a feather when he carried him. Seven years ago today, Niall met the love of his life. 

It may have been stupid of Niall to fall for Liam so quickly; to trust him so soon. Niall was placed in witness protection for a while; despite him telling the police he never saw the person who killed his family. They always told him that there was a chance the person knew Niall had been in the house, and maybe believed that they'd been seen. They didn't want to risk it. Niall had moved in with another family: the Frederick's. He became Joshua Frederick, their newly adopted son and had to live with new parents and a new little sister: Amber Frederick. Niall knew he wasn't supposed to, but in the two years he lived with this family, he'd kept in contact with Liam; even sneaking off to meet him a few times. 

Six years ago today, Liam and Niall had met, and Liam had comforted Niall in a similar fashion to how he had a year prior. They'd snuck off to the pier - the Frederick's living in Cornwall - and Niall had immediately burst into tears upon seeing Liam. Liam had cuddled him close, rubbing up and down his back tenderly, and whispering words of comfort lightly into Niall's ear. Six years ago today, Liam and Niall shared their first kiss. Despite it being on the beach, under the moonlight, the kiss was anything but romantic. Niall's face was a mess of tears and his runny nose, but Liam hadn't seemed to have cared as he pressed his lips to Niall's. 

Five years ago today, Niall left the Frederick's home and moved to his own flat. He was entirely grateful for their hospitality, and Niall still kept in contact with them today; but it was too difficult for him to pretend to be part of some other family instead of his own. He'd been saving up to go to Ireland and visit his family, but after one too many Frederick's family gatherings, Niall couldn't take it anymore. It took everything in him to not scream out that he wasn't Joshua, and he wasn't some kid dumped at the side of the road by parents who didn't love him. So he moved out, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick understanding completely - they were good like that. He couldn't afford much, so he was still living in Cornwall, and the flat was nothing extravagant, but it was enough. He'd texted Liam immediately, and the freshly turned twenty year old showed up at his door a few days later. Liam had stayed with him for a week, and Niall had taken his time taking in all of Liam and how much he'd changed in two years. All the other times he'd snuck out to see Liam, it was always night time, so Niall couldn't see him as well. But now Niall had the man stood before him in the bright of day. The beard had grown in nicely, framing his face perfectly in Niall's opinion. When he took his shirt off, Niall saw that his arms were covered in tattoos - Niall had taken his time to look over and ask about each one - and his body was toned very nicely. 

Four and a half years ago, Liam and Niall had moved in together. Niall sold his flat in Cornwall, and Niall and Liam bought a bigger flat in Derby. Niall didn't want to go anywhere near Wolverhampton again, and Liam had always wanted to live up north, but not too high up, so they'd agreed on Derby - Niall also knowing it'd be easier for him to see his beloved football club too. 

Three years ago, Liam had proposed to Niall. The men were deeply in love; all their friends and family commenting often that they'd never seen two people more in love. The men were visiting the Frederick's down in Cornwall when he did it. Liam had taken Niall to a café, the same one the two had snuck to many years prior. They then walked down the beach until Liam found the spot where they shared their first kiss and, being the hopeless romantic he was, asked Niall to marry him at that very spot. 

Two years ago, the boys got married. It was a small affair, only the closest friends and family were invited. They honeymooned in Ireland, and Niall absolutely loved showing Liam his home country, and Liam absolutely loved letting him. He was introduced to many of Niall's family for the first time, the two men being unable to afford flights to Ireland for so long, and some family members unable to fly to England for the wedding. 

One year ago, Liam had brought up the idea of adoption. He'd told Niall over and over how much he wanted to start a family with him, to raise children with him in a small house in a nice suburb. Niall had always humoured him, nodding along, but he wasn't sure if he wanted children. Liam had spent weeks working Niall down to at least go to an adoption agency with him, and as soon as they laid eyes on Katie, a tiny four year old with long brown hair and bright blue eyes, both men fell in love with her. A month later they were bringing the little girl back to their flat - they were still saving for the little suburban house Liam dreamed of - and moved her in. 

Today, as Niall looked at the picture of Liam and him, aged nineteen and seventeen respectively, he could hear his husband playing with their now five year old daughter; something about princesses and knights. Niall placed the picture down next to his family photo and stood up off the bed. The men had now moved their little family into a small house in the suburbs of Derby, and were in talks about adopting another child to fill their empty bedroom. In their new house, Liam and Niall had a small walk in wardrobe, which Niall was going into now. On one side, there were Liam's clothes, the other were Niall's. Niall headed towards his side, and crouched down on the floor. In the back of the wardrobe, under the clothes, Niall had hidden a little box. He pulled it out in front of him and opened it up. It was a shoebox, nothing unusual to find in a wardrobe, so Liam had never thought twice about it - Niall was sure if he'd looked inside, he would know by now. 

Inside the box were some newspaper clippings; every article ever written about the murder of Niall's family was in here, from the first ever one they wrote with a picture of Niall and Liam on the front, all the way to the one where they announced they were closing the case as unsolved. Niall scoffed at that one; somehow he was better at their job than the trained police were. He flicked through the rest of the box, containing letters, and printed screenshots of texts from various people. The final thing he picked up was a knife. It was a large kitchen knife, not unlike the one he and Liam had in their kitchen drawer, but this one was caked in dried blood. Niall held it in his hands, turning it over. The coppery smell of blood was undeniable, and Niall caught images of his family's bodies as he smelt it. The dried blood had turned a brownish colour, and some of it crumbled off as he moved it in his hands. He put the object back into the box and shoved it into the back of his wardrobe, swallowing a large lump. 

He walked out of the wardrobe, and quickly washed his hands in their ensuite. He looked at himself in the mirror; his face was red and blotchy, his eyes still streaming fresh tears as the old ones were drying. He washed his face down quickly too. Niall looked down at the hoodie he was wearing: Liam's. It smelt undeniably of his husband; a smell Niall had once related to safety, and love, and always made him remember the strong arms that had wrapped around him and carried him out of the house. Those thoughts had long gone now. At times Niall found the smell to be more horrible than the smell of blood, seemingly so strong it overwhelmed his every being. 

He had to keep up the act, Niall thought, as he wandered out of their bedroom and into his daughter's. Had to keep up the act, he thought as he immediately cuddled into his husband's loving embrace. Had to keep up the act, he thought, as Liam rubbed up and down in his back in that tender way he always had. Liam could never know. No one could. 

Seven years ago today, Niall's whole family was killed. Seven years ago today, Niall had fallen in love with the man who did it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This was written for theme 10 of the NiamNetwork: hurt/comfort. Idk if this fits the theme but I tried my best. Anyway, I wrote this last night then completely forgot to upload this because I'm an idiot, which is why I'm a little late with it. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think! Hope you enjoyed reading it. Make sure you check out the NiamNetwork on Tumblr!


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